


Pictures of You

by thelonebamf



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: My contribution to the Otasune anthology "Let the World Be". A relationship seen through a series of images.





	Pictures of You

Pictures of You

  
  


“I don’t know, I never really thought about it. Never really got settled into one house long enough to think much about what I might be missing at another.”

 

“But there must have been _ something _ you wished you’d been able to do. Join a little league team? Boy Scouts? Search for buried treasure with your friends, only to narrowly escape a family of criminals out to seek to fortune for themselves?” 

 

Dave raised an eyebrow at Hal, who gave him a resolute but twisted sort of grin as he shifted in the passenger side seat of their van, digging behind his legs for the half of a granola bar he’d been saving. He crunched away cheerfully, enjoying his midnight- or rather 2:21 am snack as Dave continued speeding down the empty highway, and Hal assumed the conversation was over.

 

“Guess it would have been nice to have a dog at some point,” he said, several minutes later.

 

Hal snorted. “So Alaska was what, making up for lost time?”

 

“Mm. Something like that. It wouldn’t have been right anyway, bonding with an animal like that when I couldn’t take it with me.”

 

“...yeah.” 

 

The glass was cool against Hal’s forehead and he removed his glasses so as to keep them from pressing into the bridge of his nose. The lush, deep branches of the midwest woods were lost to him, soon nothing more than vague shapeless forms beyond the occasional glow of a highway mile marker. 

 

“What about you?” 

 

“Space Camp.” Hal scarcely had time to open his eyes before the words were out of his mouth, crisp and resolute.

 

It took a moment for Dave to realize that was the whole of Hal’s answer, as though the phrase should have been immediately comprehensible to any normal person.

 

“What is that? Like pitching a tent on the moon? I thought we were talking about things you could actually-”

 

“No, no.” Hal replaced his glasses before drumming his fingers excitedly on his knee. “It was a summer program you could go to. In Florida and Alabama maybe, for kids! You’d go through astronaut training and learned all about how to run an actual space mission and stuff. The commercials always showed kids spinning around in this giant metal soccer ball zero-g contraption.”

 

“That does seem right up your alley,” Dave smiled a brief thing, quickly dulled as his eyes scrutinized the car passing them in the next lane. “But your folks didn’t want to spend the money, or…?”

 

“My father was weird when it came to talking about things like outer space. Star Trek was okay, but he got weird if I mentioned wanting to work for NASA and the like.”

 

“Huh.” 

 

“Anyways, it never happened. It’s not something I think about a lot, but sometimes you still see the commercials on daytime T.V.”

 

“Since when are you awake during the day?” Dave jibed.

 

“Very funny.”

\---

The last of the autumn leaves had fallen to the ground, tamped down by long weeks of wind and rain. A few resilient stragglers had wedged themselves beneath the wipers of the sedan, hitching a ride to Philanthropy’s latest safehouse.

 

Last night’s mission had proven successful; the Metal Gear’s development had been held up in corporate limbo, and the careful extraction of a few key files had made sure the project would remain stalled indefinitely. Dave had never felt the need to shake the hand of a bureaucrat, having Otacon halt construction via their own red tape was always preferable to sending Snake into a potential development site. 

 

Hal was asleep now, taking a well deserved rest after a straight thirty hours in front of his computer. He’d roused himself long enough to down the egg and biscuit sandwich Dave had handed him but had barely opened his eyes to do so. At least his face was taking on a little color again.

 

With the radio off, and Alabama’s scenic mountains shrouded by the night, Dave was left with only his thoughts and the occasional billboard for entertainment. When one eventually caught his eye, he cast only a momentary glance over his shoulder at his sleeping companion before taking the next exit.

 

“Hal. Wake up, Hal.” Dave slowed the car, dragging out the wet crunch of gravel before finally turning off the engine. “C’mon, quick.”

 

Though Hal was hardly a light sleeper, he’d learned quickly enough to rouse himself should he detect any kind of urgency in Dave’s voice. Though it would take him a few seconds to reach full wakefulness, it was still obvious they hadn’t made it to their destination.

 

“Dave?” He asked, stepping out from the back seat on unsteady legs. “Where are we?”

 

“You tell me.” 

 

Hal squinted into the darkness, waiting for the vague shapes to swim into focus. As his eyes adjusted he was able to make out the delicate lines of an archway, and the painted silhouette of a shuttle, almost glowing in the reflected lights of the parking lot. 

 

“Are we…? Is that..Habitat 1?” Hal turned to face his friend, but Dave had suddenly become very interested in something in the distance. “Dave are we at  _ Space Camp?” _

 

“Might not have time to get you fitted for a suit and helmet, but we can probably spare a few minutes to poke around.” 

 

“Okay, just real fast though because we still have to check in on the- oh man did I tell you they have a chair that simulates walking in the the one-sixth gravity of the moon?”

 

\---

It hadn’t been exactly protocol, and Hal had all but forgotten about it until he was handed the thick envelope at a one-hour photo place whose lone employee was a teenager paid too little to care about the customers at his window at two a.m.  

 

He sifted through the pictures quickly, many of them too dark to be of any use, even for his own references, but there were still some people in the world who insisted on ‘hard copies’, citing doctored images as reason enough for inaction.  He pocketed the few that might make compelling evidence into the production of new Metal Gear units, stopping suddenly as Dave’s satisfied smile, and his own foolish grin looked up at him. 

 

He tucked it into his jacket’s inside pocket before slipping the rest of the stack back into their paper casing, and ran off to find Dave again.

 

~~~

 

“This is a bad idea.”

 

“No it isn’t. You’re just scared.”

 

“I’m scared because it’s a bad idea!”

 

The truck- a recent acquisition that they’d paid too much for in exchange for the dealer’s silence, groaned achingly as it rolled to a stop just outside the nondescript diner. Dave was sure it had been on the road much longer than its supposed 40,000 miles, but they hadn’t been in a position to argue.

 

“We’ve got fifty bucks, maybe fifty-five if we get real industrious between the cushions of this heap. The way I see it, with that much we can fill up the tank, or put something in our own.”

 

Dave let his hands fall from the wheel, but didn’t pull the keys from the ignition.

 

“It’s been almost two days,” he added, giving Hal a meaningful glance.

 

Hal didn’t have to ask what he meant, the dull but omnipresent strain in his stomach a nagging reminder. As for Dave- Hal tried not to think too hard about the last time he’d seen the man with anything more than a cigarette between his lips.

 

“We can’t afford to get stuck here,” he answered, pushing open the passenger side door. “I doubt there’s a signal out here to jump on. We’d be sitting ducks.”

 

“Just make sure to clean your plate like a good boy,” Dave grinned, running his tongue over the dry edges of his teeth, “and we’ll be fine.”

\---

“You boys sit anywhere you like, take a look at the menu, I’ll be right with y’all.” 

 

The waitress, a matronly sort who had clearly been in this job longer than most of her patrons had been alive sidled past them, overloaded tray hoisted high above her head. Hal tried not to stare as she deposited plate after plate of steaks and sandwiches at a table just a few feet away. It was all he could do not to leap over the unsuspecting diners and grab the dinner rolls right off their plates.

 

But that wasn’t part of the plan.

 

“So what are we having?” She piped up again, somehow back beside them, tucking an errant strand of hair behind one ear. A salt and pepper ninja.

 

“The ‘Wide Load’,” Dave answered, handing back the unopened menus.  He gestured briefly with his fingers. “Two.”

 

“I like a man who knows what he wants,” she laughed. “Alright then, and you know the deal right? One hour.”

 

“That will be plenty.”

 

\---

The “Wide Load” was five pounds of seasoned ground beef, seared on a flat top griddle and topped with, half a head of lettuce, red onions, two sliced tomatoes and a shocking amount of cheese, all saddled on a bun that overtook the plates now sitting before them. Hal gaped, not sure if the lurch in his stomach was hunger taking over, or a preemptive case of indigestion.

 

“All ready then?”

 

Hal stole a glance at Dave, who was rolling up his sleeves almost casually.

“Sixty minutes- starting… now!”

 

Dave lost no time digging into his meal, ripping off chunks of the oversized burger with little care, eagerly downing each bite. Meanwhile Hal found himself overwhelmed, despite himself. He set to task, cutting it up into manageable (normal sized, he thought) portions.

 

It was a decent burger, Hal supposed, though he couldn’t really focus on that at the moment. It wasn’t long before his jaw ached from frantically chewing and swallowing, taking deep gasping breaths and quick gulps of water when he could manage. Caffeine addiction or no, he knew soda was a big no.

 

He was actually making decent headway, perhaps a third of his way through the massive platter, but he glanced up and saw nearly half of their time was over. Bending over his plate, he struggled to eat faster, already feeling an ache in his gut. A quick glance to the side revealed Dave, or “Steve”, rather- finishing up the last few bites of his meal, pausing to lazily wipe up the last globs of ketchup with one of his fries. 

 

“That’s a clean plate at thirty two minutes! Just shy of a new record!” The server beamed and more than a few pairs of eyes wandered to their table as Hal worked to cram as much food in his mouth as he could. They couldn’t actually afford the thirty dollar price tag this meal would garner if he failed to finish it. 

 

“Ten minutes sweetie, you gonna need me to box that up?”

 

Hal looked up into the server’s eyes, taking in every ounce of bemusement in her smile. Stubbornly he shook his head and kept going. 

 

There was, thankfully, no final countdown. The thought of Dave smugly rattling off numbers would have been too much to handle. 

 

He couldn’t drag himself out of the chair, could barely lift his head in time for their commemorative photo, which was soon pinned up on the faded bulletin board with other successful challengers. 

 

“Don’t forget your t-shirts, now.”

 

“Th-thanks,” Hal smiled weakly, unable to think about anything other than finding a place to lie down very very flat, and hopefully never move again. But this portion of their mission accomplished it was soon time to load into the truck, stopping only for a quick refueling before starting out on the road again.

 

\---

 

Hal leaned his head against the cool glass of the window as Dave busied himself with the pump. He tried to clear his head, breathing calmly, but not too deeply as he let the contents of his stomach settle. The slam of the door roused him slightly, Dave adjusting his seat for the drive and shoving what was left of their cash into his battered wallet.

 

“Do something with this,” he said briskly, flipping something onto Hal’s lap.

 

Hal picked it up, a photograph, or rather the photograph taken in the restaurant only moments ago. Clearly Dave hadn’t thought it wise to leave behind any trace of their visit, aliases or no.

 

“How did you get this?” Hal asked, feeling foolish the moment the question was out of his mouth. Thankfully Dave only gave him a slight grin and raised eyebrow in return, a silent “Really?” written clear across his face.

 

“S’not a bad picture.”

 

“You can’t even see my face.”

 

“That hardly matters.”

 

“Ha,ha.”

 

Dave’s rumbling laugh was soon joined by the engine shaking to life and they were off.

 

Hal woke sometime later from his brief dozing when Dave pulled over to the side of the road so he could stretch his legs. When his own door swung open, the photo fell down from his lap to the floorboards. He picked it up, turning it over in the orange glow of the truck’s  cabin.

  
  


Not a good portrait, no, though there was something charming about Dave’s self-satisfied smile.

 

But a good photo.

 

A memory.

~~~

 

“I used to live here.”

 

“Here?” Hal craned his neck to try and catch a better glimpse of the scenery, but there was little to see besides clusters of scrubby bushes and wind bent trees. “You sure? There’s nothing out here.”

 

“Not now, no,” Dave admitted, eyes steady on the road. “It happens, sometimes. Town was never that big to begin with, not more than a couple of families strung together. Mining or logging towns, end up shuttering  when the resources dry up or the kids decide to move on to better things or-”

 

Hal remained silent, but the unspoken question hung in the air.

 

“... or just move on.”

 

The car rolled to a stop in the parking lot of what had once been the area’s grocery store, lines in the pavement long since faded in the sun, hairline cracks overgrown with weeds. Hal hadn’t asked that they pull over, and Dave hadn’t suggested it, but the two of them lost no time in unbuckling their belts and stepping outside. 

 

Whoever the last residents of this place had been, they’d left with little ceremony. Bleached posters still hung in the shop windows, advertising discount prices on mayonnaise and hot dog buns. But Dave seemed to have little interest in the storefront, or even the row of houses visible a few yards away. Instead, he started walking towards a thick grove of trees, wild and untrimmed, though Hal thought he could detect a hint of a clearing in their midst.

 

The church was larger than Hal would have expected, but perhaps this had been one of those communities that poured everything it had into such things. Still, time had  worn down the building the same as any other, and bits of concrete and marble crunched beneath their feet as they passed through the open chapel doors.

 

Dave had long ago put to rest the notion that Eskimos had a hundred words for snow, giving Hal a withering look when he’d first suggested it. But in this brief and silent moment, Hal found himself wishing he knew at least one more for “light”, particularly the hazy sort of filtered morning glow that seemed to slowly drift between the rotted eaves and awnings, catching the ever present clouds of dust that floated in the air.

 

It was cold in here, late winter sun having made little progress in warming the curls and corners of stone. Hal shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, surprised when his fingers grazed an unexpected plastic surface, which revealed itself to be the disposable camera they’d picked up at a drugstore a few nights ago. 

 

It was probably too dark for the picture to come out with any kind of real clarity, even if the camera had been of half decent quality. There was still something about the place, or perhaps the time, that Hal wanted to examine later and even a poor photograph would serve as a reminder later on. 

 

A few minutes later and Dave came back to him, a quick nod of the head letting Hal know they could go. Hal found his spot in the driver’s seat this time, but waited until they were ten or fifteen miles out before asking Dave to turn on the radio.

 

\---

 

“What’s this, Sunny? Another box?”

 

“Mmhmm!” The young girl dropped herself beside him, battered shoebox held securely in her lap. “This one’s got good stuff.” 

 

“Oh yeah?” Honestly, Hal had no idea where she kept finding these stashes of mementos. He’d never been particularly mindful of holding onto anything that wasn’t essential to their day to day dealings, his collector’s habit long since banished exclusively to the digital realm. But this wasn’t the first time since they’d started unpacking that Sunny had shown up with another handful of some innocuous gizmo or postcard or stack of notes that sent them down memory lane.

 

“Look at Snake!” She shoved the faded polaroid practically under his nose. “He’s smiling. But who’s Eric?”

“Oh,” Hal blinked rapidly, almost able to taste the hot grease and onions all over again. Maybe they should have salad for dinner tonight. “That- that’s me.”

 

Her nose crinkled, an eyebrow raising in a manner she must have inherited from Dave. It was rather like looking into a picture of another kind, Hal thought.

 

“It’s kind of a long story.”

 

“Good.” She answered, already sifting through the rest of the box pulling out and examining the rest of the battered snapshots, already piecing together some version of the story in her head. “I like to hear stories about the you. From the old days.”

 

“Old days!” Hal feigned displeasure, but Sunny was already laughing, handing him more pictures to examine. “It wasn’t that long ago!”

 

And it wasn’t, not really. A few years and a lifetime was all. 

 

One well worth remembering.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like it was alright to post this now that all of the physical copies of the zine have sold. This story also has several accompanying illustraions by the talented Harshai, but the only way to see them at present is in the book.
> 
> Sunny asks about "Eric" in the last segment, and that is a reference to one of the illustrations. While undertaking their burger eating challenge, Dave and Hal gave fake names (Steve and Eric, respectively) which can see written on the bottom edge of the polaroid.
> 
> I might check out a physical copy on Gumroad if you're interested? https://gumroad.com/l/TiNV


End file.
